When You're the Best of Friends: Spyke and Cyandog One-Shots
by SpinninMyWheels
Summary: A series of heartfelt, slice-of-life short-stories dedicated to the world-class Meda-Wimps of Riverview. Say that five times fast, whydont'cha.
1. What Scares You Most

**Author's note:**

 **Just a little heads up: I tried to keep Spyke and Cyandog's personalities as close to the Medabots anime canon as possible. Something I decided headcanon-wise, however, was that Spyke's last name was Ivan (pronounced "i-vin," and based on his Japanese name, Iwanoi [because I felt like using Iwanoi as his last name would be an uncomfortable read for people who were used to hearing that for his first name.] Plus we've got characters like Coach Mountain and Mr. Richards in the dub, so I figured Ivan wasn't a horrible idea.)**

 **Anyway, happy reading!**

 **-Torque**

* * *

 **1**

 **What Scares You Most**

The night stilled like a pool of water over the Ivan household. The streets outside were empty, and the rooms inside remained silent and undisturbed in the dark. All was quiet. All was still…

Until a gunshot cut clear through the air.

Spyke held his chest, feeling something had stopped. He started to slump, eyes wide.

"Spyke!" Cyandog was at his side, taking his arm. "Spyke, I'm-I didn't mean to-I didn't plan this, I promise!" He said, every word a shade more desperate than the last. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't think it would end quite like this. Could you ever forgive me? Spyke? Spyke, _no_ , please, you _have to answer, please answer!_ " With trembling hands, Cyandog slowly turned his pale face so he could look him in those dark, panicked eyes. _"Oh, it's all my fault,_ " he wavered, " _I_ did this to you!" He hugged one arm around Spyke's neck, swinging his other to snatch the handheld phone from the table behind them, shaking—shaking and scared for what would follow, but wanting to keep him close, whatever happened.

 _"Cyan-d-dog,"_ Spyke rasped in a small, fading voice.

"What is it, Spyke?" He asked, already dialing 119. "I'll do anything! I will!"

He felt a finger tap twice on his back. Cyandog hung his head, phone pressed to his ear. "I see," he said over the dial tone, the words weighted with grief. "I understand, you… You want to bury my medal with your corpse."

" _What?_ No—look."

Cyandog's visored gaze followed Spyke's shaking, pointing hand, to the illuminated television screen on the wall. A collie was lying still on its side, but it sprang up in an instant and bolted across a farmland field.

They gasped in unison. Spyke's eyes veered to the ceiling, relief washing over his face.

"So the _dog_ _ **DOES**_ live!" Cyandog howled for joy, hung up the phone (slam-dunking the receiver on the rug, to boot) and jumped up and down on the patterned pillows and blankets they had spread all over the couch (let alone most of the living room). "Miracles are _real!_ All is right in the world!" Then he stopped, and turned to Spyke. "They really had me going there, and you, too!" With a little more terror in his voice, he added in an undertone, "My scanners read that you had started _flatlining!_ "

"Ohh, so _that's_ what that was," Spyke gripped his buttoned pajama shirt where it covered his heart. "Yikes... They should'a put a warning on the disk or something. Let's double-check next time you hit RentBox, 'kay?"

"Agreed!" Cyandog echoed. "Agreed. I…" He sat down again, wringing his hands. "I'm sorry, Spyke. Had I known—"

"Hey, it's okay, bud!" He threw one blanketed arm around his Medabot. "No biggie, I'm fine! Even if something _really bad_ had happened, you'd still be a first responder, right?"

"I would never forgive myself if I wasn't." Cyandog gave a whirring sigh, but started to relax again, his head resting on Spyke's shoulder. Even more assuring than the on-screen family welcoming their dog home were his scanners and cardiographs indicating regulated stress levels, for Medafighter and Medabot alike.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Spyke and Cyandog take movie night VERY seriously.**

 **Funnily enough, I almost didn't write in the part of Cyandog calling 911 (or Japan's equivalent, 119), but it was only before I posted this that I realized what a mistake that would be. Though I wrote this entire thing on a whim so I'm sure there are other plot holes here, oops. Also, yes, I think Medabots can be either programmed with (or have pre-programmed awareness of) certain human medical needs. More on that later, but anyway! Hopefully I'll have more ideas for one-shots in coming weeks!**

 **Thanks so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed!**

 **\- Torque**


	2. Something to Sneeze at

**Author's Note:**

 **Hello all! Torque here with another fic! Hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

2

Something to Sneeze at

A general rule of thumb for Spyke: if there's enough sunshine and minimal humidity, you're allowed to play outside before homework—so on a day this bright and clear, he firmly doubted his math assignment would be finished before the day was out. Cyandog was at his heels, of course, and they spent hours on the back lawn, baseball gloves and bats, tennis rackets, and even a badminton net strewn on the grass. Needless to say, when they played, they played hard. When they had run out of gear to use and ideas for new sports, they went back to playing Cyandog's old favorite game—frisbee.

Spyke threw out his arm, the bright yellow disk flying from his fingertips.

"It's in my sights!" Cyandog tore across the lawn, careening as it arced his way. With a mighty leap, he snatched it from the air.

"That's it! 'Atta boy!" Spyke applauded him as he trotted back with it. "Best one yet! Ready for another?"

Cyandog gave an excited yip. Spyke took hold of the frisbee and gently pulled at it, but his hand slipped. He tried to pull it from him again, but Cyandog wouldn't budge.

"Buddy—" Spyke started laughing, which made his grip worse. "You've gotta give it back if you want me to throw it!"

But Cyandog only shook his head tauntingly. Spyke dug his heels into the grass and heaved, but Cyandog pulled with equal strength. A metallic growl rose in his throat.

"You said you wanted to play frisbee, not tug-of-war!" Spyke said, taking a step back, then two, dragging him a little with what distance he could manage. He could hear Cyandog's growl growing louder and raggeder, his face angled low—the crest on his forehead made his gaze appear stern and unyielding. Spyke suddenly felt less amused.

"Cyandog—" he said, a soft crease between his brows.

The growl only grew stronger.

"C-Cyandog," Spyke began to stammer out. "I don't like that look."

Still, his medabot's grip only tightened.

"Are you oka—?"

And just like that, a sneeze cut him off. But the growl returned.

"Uh, bless you, Cyandog." He said. "That's kinda weird—I've never heard you sneeze bef—"

Again, Cyandog threw his head as two more staticky sneezes broke his growling.

"Bless you again—d'OOF!"

Cyandog had suddenly let go of the frisbee, and Spyke stumbled back, landing on his rear. Cyandog shook his head one last time.

"Sorry, Spyke!" He said, pattering up to him. "I was trying to let you know I was having a good time playing."

"How?" Spyke sat up, rubbing his backside. His voice still strained with nerves, he added, "You'd have had a better time convincing me you had allergies."

"I'm sorry, I— I thought dogs did that to say 'I'm having fun, and I don't want to hurt you.'" Cyandog sat back on his legs. "I was reading up on it, and, I thought that was the case. I'm sorry. I really _was_ enjoying myself."

But Spyke's eyes were still wide; his face began to read of shock. "So… you did that to tell me we weren't fighting for real?"

Cyandog nodded. "Yes."

Spyke went slack-jawed, and his lip began to tremble. He buried his face in his elbow.

"What's wrong?" Cyandog drew closer, and almost reached a hand out to him, but stopped when Spyke let out a pathetic wail.

"THAT'S THE MOST PRECIOUS THING I'VE EVER HEARD!"

Cyandog's shoulders sagged, with both relief and sympathy. Only Spyke could get so emotional so easily over canine quirks. "Oh, Boss," He said, trundling up and patting his arm. "Forever the tender heart."

As Spyke wiped his eyes and nose, his mess of slick black hair brushed against Cyandog's face, and he gave a tiny squeaking sneeze.

"'Choo! S'cuse me!"

"YoU'RE THE BEST—I MEAN YOU'RE EXCUSED," said Spyke, and started sobbing even harder than before.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Sorry for my absence! I've had lots of ideas queued up, both for this series and future Medabots fics, but they're all only half-written. I figured this one was in good enough shape to publish, though! I apologize for the shortness, but with any luck I'll have more substance in the future! Stay cool, friends!**

 **\- Torque**


End file.
